


A Fighter's Beginning

by Burgie



Category: Star Stable Online
Genre: F/M, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-29
Updated: 2016-10-29
Packaged: 2018-08-27 17:13:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,367
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8409919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Burgie/pseuds/Burgie
Summary: Ricky was in a pretty dark place when he met him, so I decided to explore that.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Ricky had darker hair, skin and eyes when Epona first opened, which is what inspired this.

Ricky hadn’t felt right ever since he’d been knocked on his ass on the training mat. Nathalie had somehow managed to get him out of the gymnasium and into the car, and from there into his house, but Ricky didn’t remember any of it.

All he remembered was Ivan Drake’s fist, glowing with some strange energy, and then pain and the unforgiving surface of the mat. Ricky closed his eyes, sighing. He didn’t deserve the softness of this couch. Only winners got couches. Losers got the floor, which Ricky sat on, numbly.

Every part of Ricky hurt. But what hurt the most was his heart. He’d lost the paddock. Why had he even bet it in the first place? If Master Lucia could see what he’d done… At the thought of his old, dead master, Ricky curled into a ball on his side and sobbed.

The first thing Ricky did when he stopped crying was to turn over all of the photographs of himself. He didn’t leave the house. Nathalie came by every so often, but he always sent her away. He forgot his diet, his plans, his dreams. He almost forgot his own name.

Looking in the mirror one day, Ricky scowled at the ginger-haired man looking back at him. He didn’t deserve the Winterwell name. Nor did he deserve the cultural heritage. He’d dragged it through the mud, after all. It wouldn’t surprise him if the Buttergoods tried to take back the town when it was like this.

Ricky asked Nathalie to bring him some black hair dye. The dye stained his fingers and neck black. On a whim, he rubbed his dye-stained hands over his face. His eyes stung and he gasped at the pain, but he deserved that, too. He poured more dye into his hair. More. The fumes were making him dizzy, and maybe it would serve him right if he passed out and cracked his skull open on the bathtub. He could just hear Ivan’s taunting words.

_“Sicky little Ricky, can’t even dye his hair properly.”_

Maybe Ivan was right.

His uncle Walter found him curled on the bathroom floor.

“Ricky! What have you done?” asked Walter, opening the window and turning the bathroom fan on. He helped Ricky sit up.

“I don’t wanna be Ricky anymore,” Ricky murmured, slumping against the bathtub.

“I’ll help you, but you have to promise not to freak out about the magic stuff, okay?” asked Walter. Ricky nodded slightly, then slumped against his uncle’s shoulder.

Walter had inherited the distant druid genes of the Winterwell family line. It only cropped up in a select few people, but Walter could sense that Ricky might have a touch of magic. If he lived long enough to use it.

“Oh, Ricky, what am I gonna do with you?” Walter sighed. He washed the dye out of his nephew’s hair and off his skin, then left him in one of his bedrooms with all the windows open and quite a few runes drawn on Ricky’s skin to help him recover. Walter hadn’t let the dye set into Ricky’s hair, changing it back to its natural colour.

When Ricky woke up, Walter was ready to talk to him.

“So, you don’t want to be you anymore,” said Walter. “Is that right?”

“Yes,” said Ricky, nodding. “I’m not the bright-eyed, confident, good fighter I was. I’m pathetic. A failure.”

“What if I said that I could turn you into a new man?” asked Walter.

“What do you mean?” asked Ricky.

“I mean that I can make you look different,” said Walter. “Dye your hair, change your skin and eye colour, and nobody will know who you are.”

“Really? You can do that?” asked Ricky. He touched his ginger hair. “But I tried dyeing it, it didn’t set in.”

“I reversed it,” said Walter. “You remember that I have magic, don’t you?”

“Yeah,” said Ricky, not wanting to say that Walter had been the weird, kooky uncle his mother told him to stay away from. “Wait, did you see…?”

“Your foolishness? Yes, I did,” said Walter. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell your girlfriend. You can tell her what you wish.”

“Thank you,” said Ricky. “I know it was stupid. I’ll see if an appearance change helps.”

“Then let’s begin,” said Walter. “What kind of appearance would you like to have now?”

“Would it be too cheesy if I said that I wanted to go dark?” asked Ricky.

“If it is your wish, I will do it,” said Walter. He walked Ricky over to a full-length mirror. “Now watch and let me know how I’m doing.”

First, Walter turned Ricky’s ginger hair black. Ricky ran his hand through it, smiling and nodding. Walter was glad to see him smile. Then, he turned Ricky’s green eyes brown to match his new hair colour. His freckles disappeared, too, as his skin turned duskier. Not fully dark, as Ricky requested it to be lighter, but definitely darker than it had been.

“It’s perfect,” said Ricky when Walter was done. He actually grinned.

“I’m glad,” said Walter. “Now, go back home. Can I trust you to do that?”

“Yes,” said Ricky. “This feels much better.”

Ricky’s life became simpler after his uncle changed his appearance. He told Nathalie that he’d wanted an appearance change, and she accepted his explanation. She was just glad that he seemed happy.

Weeks passed in this fashion. Ricky spent his days eating chips and watching movies, most often in his underwear. Nathalie came around every so often, wanting to keep him company and escape the stable chores.

But then, one day, she came over much later than usual looking exhausted.

“Hey, what’s up?” Ricky asked when he answered the door to find her standing there.

“They’re going to take the stables, Ricky,” Nathalie sobbed, throwing herself into his arms. Ricky held her.

“What do you mean?” asked Ricky.

“The Drakes, the debts, they’re… they’re getting worse, Ricky,” said Nathalie, looking up at him. “I didn’t want to bother you but now I have no choice. If I can’t pay the bills, they’re going to take the stable. Horses and all.” Ricky hugged her a little tighter, knowing how much it meant to her.

“How can I help?” asked Ricky.

“I dunno, can’t you ask your aunt for a handout?” asked Nathalie, but Ricky was already shaking his head.

“No,” said Ricky. “I’m not a Winterwell anymore.”

“Oh, for God’s sake, get over your stupid mopiness and suck it up!” Nathalie snapped at him. “You lost a competition and a stupid paddock, it’s not the end of the world!”

“It is to me,” Ricky said weakly. Nathalie growled and stormed back outside, slamming the door shut behind her.

Ricky did a lot of thinking that night. His girlfriend was right- he did need to get over it. There were far more important things going on, and he’d been ignoring all of it. All because he’d lost a competition. He was being so damn selfish.

And so, the next morning, Ricky dressed in his old workout gear. It was tight on him now. The shorts threatened to split when he bent down to pick up his barbell. He couldn’t lift it. Grunting, Ricky laid down in his driveway, dried his palms, and gripped the barbell. He lifted it up. Higher. Higher. He grunted with the effort, gritting his teeth with exertion and feeling sweat form on his brow.

And then he dropped it. The middle bar slammed into his throat, choking off his air. Ricky blacked out for a second, stars filling his vision. He almost wanted to stay that way. But Nathalie needed him.

But what good was he to her now? He’d grown fat and untrained. He couldn’t even lift one stupid barbell. He’d just lie here and die. Nobody would save him. Nobody cared for stupid, sicky little Ricky.

And then, he had a burst of strength. He lifted the barbell slightly, grunting, and managed to gasp in air.

“Help,” he rasped. “Help!” Mercifully, he caught the attention of a girl. She rode over to him on a little black and white pony. “Can you help get this barbell off me?”


End file.
